Notice Me
by TheFabulousPrussia
Summary: Notice me, please. Just for once, look past the scars. Please, I'm begging you. Bitte, someone, please. Notice me, please. Just for once, look at me, I'm here. Please, I'm begging you. Per favore, someone, please. Trigger Warning: self-harm
1. If everyone noticed him

**Yes I know I should be working on Irritably Similar...but this just popped into my head this morning in the shower, so I had to. I'm not sure if I should leave it as a One-shot or not, I kind of think that these more fragile versions of the characters would be fun to write for.  
>It's also great for venting feelings.<br>I think I may just write more of this if I get stuck in Irritably Similar, like I kind of am now.**

**Song for background atmosphere: .com/watch?v=60YkPPyKjE8**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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><p>If everyone noticed him, how did no one notice the scars? Not the battle scars that he flaunted about, but the red and white lines that crisscrossed his wrists, and the one or two subtle scars on his neck. One person noticed, because he had matching ones.<p>

"We need to talk." He demanded, though his voice was quieter, and didn't hold its usual venom. That was probably what confused the other more than the question. Others around him were still laughing at the great battle story he had told where he 'wrestled a bear to the ground with one hand', but some had quieted and focused on the boy at his side whose face was aflame and downcast.

"What about?" Asked the other, he was thoroughly confused as to why he of all people would want to chat with him. But when the chestnut-haired looked up, it was obvious that he was serious. "This is one of those private discussions, isn't it?" he muttered lowly. It was even more confusing now, he couldn't comprehend why the leader of the 'We Hate Germans' club that cursed out anyone who gave him a sideways glance would want to talk to the king of all things awesome.

"It is. So come with me before I drag you, bastard." He growled, and the Prussian didn't need to be told twice, he could tell it was important, even if he couldn't figure out what. He hopped off of the table he had been sitting on and announced that his awesome presence was leaving, the confused group of people that he had been addressing muttered their farewells, going about their own conversations as he left, having to jog a little to catch up with the fast-footed Italian. No sooner had they rounded a corner had said Italian pulled the other into one of the public bathrooms, luckily enough, no one was in there.

"Hey! What the hell?" The albino blurted out, being slammed against one of the walls. It was a blank wall, a flat wall, so at least it hadn't hurt too badly.

"If you're so damn awesome, why the hell do you have so many scars?" The owner of those words seemed to be shaking, why was that?

"Well, this one came from-" he was interrupted from pulling up his shirt to show a long pale line in his skin that crossed with others of less importance, but they still looked like they had hurt.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. I mean scars, not stories." He slowly pulled up his sleeve, exposing scars marring his perfect olive skin, some were old, others looked fresh, and there were bandages on his arm, signaling that they hadn't been there the previous day. Oh, now he got it. His gaze quickly flashed to his own arm, just a glance, but Lovino caught it. He reached out, grabbing the other's arm, pulling back the sleeve that covered a similar sight, "Why?" he asked, looking up, the other boy was taller, "Why would you do this to yourself?"

Gilbert felt a small bit of rage, disappointment, and even worry, "You do it too!" he accused, though it came out as more of a question, less threatening than he had meant for it to be.

"I have a reason! I live in Hell! No one gives a damn if I'm even alive! Hell, my own brother wouldn't even notice if I were gone! He's too busy for me anymore; all he cares about is your macho potato bastard of a brother!" Damn it, now he was starting to cry, and he told had himself he wouldn't. Not in front of someone else, he could do that at home, alone, with blade to skin, and blood dripping into the bathtub. "You have friends! And your brother cares about you! You're always the center of attention! So why the hell would you do that?" He really couldn't fathom why someone as perfect, well, aside from the arrogance and annoyance, as the awesome Gilbert Beilshmidt would feel so horrible as to do that to himself. It was abominable. He obviously didn't do it to get attention, so why?

To his surprise, he heard a choked sob. Looking up from where he had been staring at the tiled floor, he met the tear-flooded, blood-red gaze, which to him looked far too hurt and fragile to belong to the face that framed it. "You don't get it then." He managed to mutter out, "I don't have friends, just people who'll put up with me while I beg for attention like table scraps." He choked out another sob, and this time, found himself being comforted by the broken heart in front of him. He hadn't imagined that anyone would actually care about him, not like this. No one had noticed the scars before, as much attention as he put into the scars with stories, most of which were made up, no one noticed the scars that actually mattered. Only one person, Lovino Vargas. There was actually someone who noticed, who cared, who understood the pain, who was now holding him gently, cooing soothing words into his ear between his own sobs.

That was the moment when Gilbert realized that he had a purpose in life. He would do whatever it took to give Lovino a reason to stop hurting himself. And just like that, he found the only person he could ever truly care about, because he was cared about in return.

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><p><strong>I think the vulnerability is why I love these two so much, because they can be both vulnerable and strong.<strong>


	2. He was beginning to notice

**Here's chapter two, and writing this makes me happy, it's so angsty it's comforting. Odd, I know. My German is probably off again...damn.**  
><strong>Song for thought: Savin' Me-Nickelback<strong>  
><strong>Standard disclaimers apply.<strong>

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><p>He was beginning to notice a change in the other's behavior, a positive change, he thought. No one could change Gilbert's ways of raving and ranting about scars, or all of the stories he took pride in telling, not that Lovino believed a word of it. To him, it was all excuses for idiocy, he probably got half of those scars from tripping over his own damn feet. The thing that changed the most, was that he was paying attention. Now, he wasn't paying attention to most things, like where he walked, what he said, or what God awful food he put in his mouth, he was paying attention to Lovino. The way he followed him around resembled a starved puppy, and Lovino was that kind person who stopped and offered that poor puppy half of his sandwich. Therefore, he was now cursed to be followed around by a puppy-love smitten Prussian. That wasn't to say he didn't enjoy the company, to be completely honest, he was tired of being alone, and Gilbert was just the person that he liked being around. When he wasn't being an egotistical bastard, he was still funny, but he was actually nice. He supposed it was the soft center inside of the hardened outer shell that he had managed to break through.<br>Unknown to him, he did more than just crack it, he'd shattered it, and found his place inside the center. All because he noticed, he was now the albino's number one priority.

"So Vino," That had been the nickname given to him, because Antonio already called him 'Lovi', and Gilbert just had to be original. Other names that Lovino found himself being called were all nonsense German that he knew very little of. "What are you doing later? You know, like, after school." That wasn't an odd question, nor was 'Nothing.' an odd answer. The odd part was the thoughtful look that Gilbert's face held, as if he was trying to decipher an old text. He took the smaller Italian's hand, causing him to give a small gasp and his face to tinge with the beginnings of a blush. His sleeve was pulled back, revealing scars that had faded over the past weeks, he had definitely been cutting less, Gilbert liked to think that it was him that made the difference, and he was right. What made him cringe was a set of three parallel lines that ran across his wrist, he ran his thumb across the lines, being careful not to reopen them, not that they had healed all that much in the first place. By the looks of it, those scars had been carved into skin just hours ago.  
>"Mein narbiger engel, who did this to you?" he asked quietly, looking up with a face that surely didn't belong to him, but a kicked puppy.<br>The hurt in his voice backed it up though, and for once, Lovino felt bad about what he did, guilty even. He looked away from the crimson eyes that seemed to be looking into him, "I did it to myself, bastard, isn't it obvious?" he snapped lowly, though he instantly regretted it.  
>"Why?" It was a simple enough question, only one word, one syllable, but the answer was more complicated. Why had he done that? Those three scars. Oh, he remembered.<br>"Why should I tell yo-" he stopped himself, looking into the worried gaze of the other that still held his hand so gently, tracing light patterns over the back soothingly. How could he say no to someone who showed so much concern and genuine care? He couldn't. With a sigh, he restarted, "Last night, Tonio came home with me after school, when you had walked home with Ludwig, of course Feli had come with us too, even if he's younger, it's the same school. It's not a long walk home, at least, I don't think so, but Feli always complains about it, you know, he's such a whiner, and..." he knew he was rambling, but the Prussian just stood there patiently, waiting for him to continue the story. Lovino had never noticed just how much he loved having someone to listen to him. "And he was complaining about how far the walk was, and how hot it was, I told him to shut up of course, then Antonio, the bastard, told me not to be so harsh, and carried Feliciano the rest of the way home, and even tucked him into bed! The nerve of that bastard!" he ranted.  
>"Vino, that doesn't explain this..." Gilbert muttered softly, in a voice that he used only with Gilbird and Ludwig.<br>"You're going to think it's stupid."  
>"Well yeah, whenever you hurt yourself it's stupid."<br>"Hypocritical asshole." Lovino huffed, exposing some scars that weren't as fresh as his own, but weren't weeks old, on Gilbert's arm. Both frowned at what they saw, it was improvement, but not much. They were both scared for the other.  
>"Well you see Vino, I can't stop until you do..." Words like those, that Lovino had never imagined to hear, were suddenly out in the open, waiting for a reaction. He could not come up with a reaction other than a harsher blush and a gaping-mouthed 'What?'<br>"I-i mean...you're the reason I'm stopping, but also the reason I haven't stopped completely...If that makes any sense at all." Now it was Gilbert's turn to blush, and it was blatantly obvious on that pale skin of his. He attempted to spell it out in a clearer way, "What I mean by that is..." he looked up to the sky, as if it held some answer written in the clouds that promised a heavy downpour of rain later. "You're...the first person that...ever took any time for me, the real me." It wasn't like him to be so out and open about these things, though it also wasn't like Lovino to give a damn about anyone.  
>And now he was speechless, staring at Gilbert like he had two heads, "What...what about your brother?"<br>"West...he...it's not the same, he knows, but he's only ever seen me as the pitiful and stubborn older brother that protected him when we were young..."  
>"Protected him? What about your parents?" It was a stupid pair of questions, he knew it as the words stumbled out, seeming to send a chill into the air. He didn't think that he had ever seen the other look so...weak before, he visibly flinched.<br>"Parent...That's who I had to protect Lud from." His voice trembled quietly, Lovino had to strain to hear, he took a step closer, noticing Gilbert's slight movement that a startled hare might make, trying to figure out if harm was intended. "Our Vater, if you could even call him that, was horrible." he gave a dark chuckle, "Want to hear a story?" he asked, pools of blood seeping into the comfort-filled bubbling of amber, odd, there was a reflection of the hurt he felt there in that comforting gaze.  
>"Only if you want to tell me." A calm, clear sentence, without 'bastard' to accompany it.<br>"Alright, where to start? Hmm..." after a moment of thought, passed by several gazes all around the small clearing in the wooded area behind the school they attended, "Well, some of my awesome battle tales aren't completely true..."  
>Lovino scoffed, "Some? Completely? So you really fought a dragon using only three popsicle sticks and a rubber band, all while riding a unicycle on a tightrope that was fifty feet over a tank of vicious man-eating sharks?"<br>"Okay, I have a vivid imagination...that's a good thing!" He shrugged, going back to the more serious mood he had before, "Really, the scars were from Vater." he paused to let it sink in, and it didn't take long, according to the look that overcame Lovino's face. He continued before Lovino could talk, if he even wanted to, "He was a real nasty basket-case, I don't talk about him...ever. So you should feel uber privileged. Luddy doesn't bring him up either, he doesn't have scars like I do, I never let Vater get near him, meaning I took every beating. West tried to protect me sometimes, he screamed, he cried, but I never listened, I just took it like the man I was supposed to be. When you're the oldest, you have to be there to take care of your little brother, you know?" Lovino could only nod, he couldn't imagine the pain, the fear, or even what thoughts could have run through Gilbert's head as he was growing up, taking a beating that he probably deserved, but not so harshly, but he knew that he would do the same for Feliciano, even if he could be an oblivious brat sometimes. "Lud's a good kid though, he's taller than I am now!" he laughed, like he was back to his usual 'happy' self, it was almost convincing, except for the tears. He really hated to cry, he rarely did so, never in the presence of anyone but himself, and only one other person, that person being Lovino. The very same person that held him dearly anytime his tear ducts decided to betray him, this being one of those times. He found himself wrapped in the arms of the Italian again, and he had come to learn that this was his favorite place to be. He really loved being held by Lovino, being comforted by Lovino, he loved Lovino.

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><p><strong>Translations<br>Vater(German)- Father  
>Mein narbiger engel(German)- My scarred angel (Thank you thank you VampireNaomi, you never fail me!)<strong>


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